Veronicas
by cdiggity
Summary: San Diego Detective Veronica Sawyer is called in to investigate a dead body. While it's ruled a suicide, Veronica Sawyer knows something everyone else doesn't. The body bears a resemblance to a case she knows too well. She travels to Neptune, CA, where she makes an ally in Veronica Mars.
1. Chapter 1

**AN This fic is obviously AU. It's set June 2005, directly after Aaron Echolls' arrest. Felix doesn't die (entirely because I hate that plot). The fic correlates both with Heathers and Heather: the Musical, but follows the musical more.**

 **(so nothing gets confusing Veronica Sawyer is referred to as Sawyer while Veronica Mars is just Veronica)**

 **That said, I hope you enjoy this! I hadn't planned on posting it all but decided to. Please let me know what you think!**

* * *

Detective Veronica Sawyer wasn't having anybody's bullshit today. But it wasn't because her fiancé walked out on her the day before, and it wasn't because she'd been stuck in traffic for an extra half an hour that morning, and it wasn't because her fifteen year high school reunion was coming up. Okay, the last one had something to do with it. It had been on her mind for weeks. Or years even - she'd skipped the ten year one. And the five year one. Why did Westerberg insist on bringing them together every five years?

Besides that, the main reason was that she walked onto the scene of a suicide that morning and almost vomited. Not because it was gory, no. It was because the body of the blonde, pretty, teen girl with a red scrunchie in her hair was lying on a bed of broken glass. Her mouth was blue and there was a mug with only a few drops of a blue liquid inside a few feet away. She picked up the suicide note, which had been packed away into a plastic bag. The wording was exact. It was the same suicide note. She immediately called her lieutenant – it was much too similar. It was nearly exact, minus the location.

"Detective… are you nuts? There's no sign of an foul play," Lieutant Lopez said. Detective Sawyer could feel her voice booming from the other end. "Poor kid downed a bottle of multi purpose drain cleaner and fell into a glass table. I can't believe you'd even think-"

"Lieutenant. It's the exact copy of a suicide from my home town. And if it's just like what happened then, three more kids will be dead. It's no coincidence,"

"Veronica. I heard about Steve," Lopez said after a pause. "Maybe you should take a break."

"But don't you know, I have two weeks off starting tomorrow anyways. You know. My wedding." Sawyer shrunk herself into the small private nook she found to make the call. The wedding. It was supposed to be in three days.

"You're not in the right mind. I promise, this is either coincidence or some copycat suicide. Most likely the first. It's fine, take your time off. Come back better than ever," Lopez said, and then the line went dead.

"Shit," Sawyer whispered to herself. She composed herself, and walked back into the scene. They were packing up.

"Um, who was she?" she asked, after failing to choose the right words.

One of the officers spoke up. "Her name was Madison Sinclair. This is her grandmother's house. Her and her family were visiting. Everyone went out to breakfast, but I guess she had other plans. She was just finishing up her junior year at Neptune High up in Neptune. Parents said she was 'very popular'. So tragic. Oh the humanity."

"Neptune. I know Neptune," she stated. She knew the sheriff. He owed her a favor.

"Yeah, the country does. Lilly Kane murder. They recently arrested Aaron Echolls in that case. Neptune is where it all happened. Poor shithole of a town." The officer shrugged and left.

Neptune, California. Less than hour drive.

On her way home that afternoon, she started making calls on her flip phone to cancel different aspects of her wedding that was supposed to happen. She welcomed the condolences and triple checked she'd get her deposits back. She had footed the bill herself. She never admitted to anyone but Steve, but she had been saving for her wedding for a while. Just as she was about to cancel the cake, she received an incoming call from one of her high school friends – Heather McNamara.

"Heather?" she asked, a little skeptical. She hadn't spoken to Heather in a while. She'd sent her a wedding invitation. Shit. She'd have to make more phone calls to each guest to give them the news. "What's up?"

"Just wanted to make sure you're going to the reunion next month!" Heather chirped, a little too eagerly.

"Uh, I'm not sure," she pulled into her parking spot at home and shifted into park.

"Well, I have to know Veronica, I'm chair of the reunion committee! I need tabs on everyone who will be there," Sawyer could see tiny little Heather Mac perched at her little desk, with her small baby daughter sitting in front of her, toying with the papers in front of her.

"I know Heather. Tell you what, write down that I'll be there and it just might happen," Sawyer could almost hear the smile spread across Heather's face, and was about to hang up, when –

"Veronica, that's not the only reason why I called," Heather said nervously. "I got a weird phone call today. I didn't recognize the number. Um, the voice sounded fake? And all they said was 'Poor little Heather. Where'd those pills go?' and then they hung up before I could say anything."

Veronica's throat went dry and her stomach dropped. "I need you to send me the number immediately."

"I wrote it down. It was 619 – 555 – 4322."

"Did you try to call it back?"

"No. It just rang and rang."

"It was probably a pay phone then. The area code is the San Diego area… I can find this guy. Are you okay, though?" Veronica knew what it meant. The pills comment. Heather knew. They didn't have to say.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I haven't thought about….that… since that day," Heather said, and was going to say more when she was interrupted by a crying baby. "Oh, gosh, Kristen. She's so good at this crying thing. But it's worth it. I'll talk to you later, Veronica. Oh! I'll see you in a few days."

"Actually, you won't. Wedding's cancelled. I'll tell you more later. Promise. Go cuddle Kristen."

"Oh my gosh, Veronica. I'm so sorry. We'll chat soon. Love ya!" There was some static on the other end and Heather hung up.

Sawyer smiled to herself. Though it wasn't often, hearing from Heather always made her happy She grabbed her briefcase, got out of her car and locked it.

She lived in a small condo complex with Steve... but he left. She made a mental note to start looking for a smaller place – one she could afford on her own. Her and Steve had moved here nearly a year ago, and could afford it together. On her own? Not so much. She walked up the short walkway and made another mental note to water the dying flower pots in front of the condo. Oops.

When she went to unlock her door, she was surprised to find it unlocked. She silently put her briefcase down, pulled out her gun and quietly opened the door. She began checking each room, her gun ready, and almost pulled the trigger when she found someone in her bedroom. Steve.

"God dammit, Veronica," he said, jumping. "Put that thing away. It's just me."

"Just you," she said, scoffing. "What are you doing here? You made it very clear you wanted out yesterday."

"I'm coming back for the rest of my things," Steve said, rolling his eyes and gesturing to the open suitcase in front of him. "There's a check for $1000 on the table. In case you lost any money from… it all."

"Thanks, I'll spend it on booze. Could you call up your half of the guests and tell them not to come on Wednesday? It'd be a huge help." She put her gun back into her holster, and rested back on the dresser.

"No problem, Ronnie. And why don't you use that grand for something useful, like hiring someone to figure your shit out, or at least get you a nice prescription for Xanax."

"Oh, fuck you," Sawyer sputtered out. Not this conversation again. No.

"Because really, you're fucked up. I can't even touch you half the time. You've got some weird shit 7-11. You're just - you're. I can't deal anymore. I can't."

"If you loved me, you'd try and understand."

"Yeah, if you loved me you'd tell me why this shit fucks you up," he slammed the top of the suitcase.

"Well, then I guess we're both at fault here. I never want to see you again." She looked down at the ground when she said that.

"Yeah, fine. But when you finally have your mental breakdown, don't come yelling to me. Have fun getting loaded tonight."

"God, FUCK YOU." She yelled from the bedroom, and listened to his footsteps down the hall, and the slam of the door.

She waited until she heard his car leave, went to grab her briefcase and went back in. She picked up the check from the table and almost laughed. She folded it and placed it in the same box as she put her engagement ring. She changed out of her work cloths and into a pair of cotton shorts and her, ironically, Westerberg Class of '90 t-shirt. She went into the spare room, which held her mini bar and he pulled out a bottle of wine and a glass, filling it to the top.

Maybe it wasn't the best idea, using alcohol in place of a therapist. Nothing will ever make her come to terms with the fall of her senior year. After it all happened, she asked her parents to see a therapist and they brushed her off. Even after graduating college and joining the academy it didn't cross her mine. Not even during the psychological screening. They deemed her fine.

So she was fine. But there were things. Things that stayed with her for fifteen years.

She couldn't shake off the nights of slurpees and promises of love and protection and justice and that what they were doing was right because their targets were damaging to others and they themselves were damaged and only needed each other and no one else and nothing could tear them apart. That they were sent from god to do his work. That their love was god. That they were god. They were the cause of all bad things ended. And no one could ever love her like he did. And he'd kiss every inch of her, even where no one could see, and how he made her feel safe and protected and wanted and put together.

Until he didn't.

Our love is god. Kaboom.

She finished off the glass, filled it back up, and made her way back into her room and finished calling her list of guests. Accepting condolences between sips of wine. Hemming and hawing as they said how sorry they were, and how upset they were. When she dialed the last number, her parents familiar Sherwood, Ohio phone number, she was done again. She'd get more after talking to her parents. She'd need it.

"Sawyer residence," it was her mom. Shit. It was usually easier to talk to her dad.

"Hey mom! It's me," she already needed that third glass.

"Veronica!" she said, very happily. "Rod, pick up the other phone. It's Ronnie!"

"Hello? Veronica?" her dad piped in.

"Oh, we are so excited for the wedding. We're just finishing packing right now," Mrs. Sawyer said.

"Mom, dad. Steve left me. There's no wedding," she could feel the stunned silence on the other end. "Mom? Dad?"

"Oh, Veronica," was all her mother could say.

"I'll talk to you later, then," of course they were disappointed. She pressed the end button with a sigh and tossed her tiny silver phone onto her bed. Not knowing what else to do, she walked back to the spare room, poured what was left of the bottle into her glass and padded down to the living room. She grabbed a trash bag and made her way through the condo, tossing out anything of Steve's. Clothes, belongings, anything he had accidentally left behind. She tossed in pictures of them and any other mementos. She didn't need that sort of bullshit anymore.

She brought the bag out to her bin when she saw it. At the dreaded 7-11 across the street. A vaguely familiar motorcycle was about to pull out of the parking lot. She almost swore whoever was on it was looking at her. The bike turned and sped off down the street.

Sawyer ignored it, what else could she do? The person she had thought of was dead. He had been for over fifteen years. Once back inside, she curled up into the couch and clicked on the news. The picture of a pretty blonde girl was on the screen. Of course. The girls suicide from that day.

She grabbed the remote and turned up the volume, and listened to the newscasters discuss the death of Madison Sinclair. How tragic her death was, how awful her classmates will feel tomorrow, Monday, at school.

She set her wine down. "Neptune, California."

Veronica Sawyer knew the similarities were no coincidence.


	2. Chapter 2

Veronica Mars' favorite week of school was easily the last week of school. It never lasted long - it was all finals. And when her finals were done, it was sheer bullshit. Being able to hangout outside with Wallace and count how many 09er's were bragging about their summer plans. Going to a resort in the Bahamas or taking going to Paris for the entire month of July. She wasn't planning on Paris or the Bahamas, yes, she was an unlucky student at Neptune High. She had to work, that's what her summer would be, and she had a nice job already lined up at Java the Hut, although she couldn't quite say the name without laughing just yet.

But when Veronica woke up on Monday morning, it wasn't to her alarm. It was to her father standing in the doorway of her room, and when she glanced at the clock, it was an hour before her alarm was supposed to go off. Uh oh.

"Dad? Hasn't anyone told you that teenagers need their sleep to stay healthy or whatever?" she sat up, yawning. "Lay it on me, Keith. Who died? Please tell me it was Aaron Echolls."

Keith Mars sat at the end of Veronica's bed and clasped his hands together. "Veronica, Madison Sinclair is dead. She committed suicide yesterday."

She almost didn't believe it. 09er teen queen Madison Sinclair was dead. 09er teen queen, shoo in for senior prom queen and former homecoming queen, head cheerleader and all around bad person Madison Sinclair had committed suicide.

"Oh. Well. Uh, today's probably going to suck," was all Veronica could think to say.

"You don't have to go if you don't want to," he said, but deep down, Veronica knew he didn't really mean it.

"No, I have a final today, I have to go," Veronica got up from her bed and stretched. "Since I'm up so early, why don't I make breakfast, or something. Pancakes, waffles? I'll think of something."

Veronica wasn't that affected by this, as bad as she felt that sounded. Madison just wasn't a nice person. Of course, she felt bad that Madison had passed. She felt bad for Madison's friends. Even for Madison's on again, off again boyfriend Dick Casablancas. She wondered how Logan, her recently acquired boyfriend, was feeling. She made a note to call him that day, check up on him. He hadn't been going to school since his father was arrested. Yes, she was dating Logan Echolls, son of murderer and Hollywood actor Aaron Echolls. Logan didn't really want to deal with the school knowing him as the son of a murderer just yet.

While Veronica was mixing the pancake batter, she couldn't help but think about Madison on Friday. Madison, who was dressed to kill, sitting with her seventeen closest friends at lunch, smiling and laughing. Granted, the laughing was at the cost of some unfortunate freshman. But she was alive.

In the next ten minutes, Veronica received a call from Wallace, her closest friend.

"Veronica," Wallace said she picked up.

"I know, I heard. Neptune is going to be on the… emotional side today. A rarity," she held the phone up to her ear and poured a cup of coffee for her father. "Get ready for fifty stories about the amazing person she was."

"Veronica," Keith said, frowning.

"Because she was, an amazing person," Veronica saw, pouring her own cup and raising her eyebrows. "An always happy, amazing person."

Suddenly, Veronica stopped what she was doing. There was no way. There was no way Madison would kill herself. Someone killed her. Of course Veronica didn't know how or who, she had a sinking feeling it was homicide. Or maybe Madison was severely depressed and no one knew. But still… Veronica couldn't shake the thought from her head. It didn't add up, at least, not to her.

* * *

Also in Neptune that morning was Detective Veronica Sawyer, who had woken up at an ungodly hour to pack a bag, make a decently healthy breakfast, and find her way to Neptune. And there she was, her car idling outside of the Balboa County Sheriff's Department and a firm grip on her steering wheel, trying to make a decision. She can do this. She can do this investigation on her own. No one has to know. She had taken two weeks off of work for her wedding, she had time. Of course, if nothing comes up and her superiors find out, she could be in some shit.

Or, she could find the killer of a teenage girl who was just getting ready for her last year of high school and to start her life.

Madison Sinclair's death was no coincidence, and she doubted someone like Madison knew of a suicide streak that happened in, of all places, Ohio when she was two years old.

No one really cares about Ohio.

Sawyer was going to do it. She was definitely going to do it. For all she knew, two teenage boys could be lying dead in Neptune at that moment, their death seemingly showing a homosexual suicide pact.

Sawyer had an in with the Sheriff. He owed her a favor. They were at the academy together, they were acquaintances, but Sawyer had helped him out of a sticky situation once, and she made him promise to repay her in the future, whenever it might be.

Sawyer wasn't the kind to forget about favors.

Finally, after about ten minutes, she stepped out of her car and made her way inside, to find a petite blonde girl, who she remembered stepping out a slightly crappy convertible a few minutes earlier, at the front desk, asking to see Sherriff Lamb.

"Sorry, Ms. Mars," the guy at the front said, crossing his arms. "He's busy. And I'm sure he doesn't want to hear from you right now."

Sawyer popped out from behind the girl. "Do you know when he'll be done? I need to see him as well."

"And who are you?" the man asked, an eyebrow raised.

Sawyer smiled and pulled out her badge, her golden ticket as she sometimes referred to it. "Detective Veronica Sawyer, San Diego PD."

The guy laughed nervously and held out an arm, as if to show her the way to Lamb's office. "Sherriff Lamb is right through that door, detective."

The small blonde girl wasn't happy. "You just said he was busy."

"Veronica, go to school."

Veronica's these days.

Sawyer smiled to herself, and made her way into Lamb's office, shutting the door behind her. Sheriff Lamb spun around in his chair and when he saw her, he closed his eyes and grimaced.

"Oh, fuck. Veronica Sawyer," he said, shuffling away from paperwork on his desk.

"In the flesh," she smiled sweetly, and sat in the chair across from him. "How are you, good pal?"

"I'm great, fantastic even. Now, what do I owe the pleasure?" Lamb was no idiot, he hadn't seen her in ten years. He knew why she was here, at least, partly why she was here.

"Don Lamb," she said again, leaning on her hands. "Do you remember when I was able to help you after you were caught with one of the sergeants and almost kicked out?"

"Yes, Veronica," he said through gritted teeth. "What do you want?"

"And," her sweetness was almost dripping. She knew how to get to him. "Remember how you owe me a favor?"

'Yes, Veronica," he was so irritated already.

"Don't make that face, you don't look as cute," she was just bothering him at this point, it was one of her favorite things to do back in the academy. She got down to business, though. "Listen, hear me out on this. It stays between you and me, got it?"

It was in situations like this that Veronica was turned on – like a light bulb. Gone was the timid woman who was overly affected by her past, but here? She found herself into a tough cop persona. She knew most of what she was giving off was fake, but it made her feel a bit better. If only she could do this fifteen years ago.

"Yes, I got it," Sherriff Lamb's luck was falling. Or beginning to.

"Well, just yesterday, I was called in to investigate a body. But it was ruled a suicide. And, long story short, I don't think Madison Sinclair's death was a suicide."

"Jesus, Veronica," he nearly yelled this. "What makes you even think for a second –"

Sawyer slid two photos across the desk to him. The first, a photo from Madison Sinclair's… crime scene. He frowned when he saw it, not knowing what he was supposed to be seeing. The second, a photo from Heather Chandler's crime scene. Two nearly identical photos. His eyes widened a little at this one, but he shrugged.

"Yeah, so?" he tossed the photo's back at her and cross his arms.

"These are two nearly identical photos of two similar girls. Dated fifteen years apart. The first one, her name was Heather Chandler. She was my best friend in high school. She ran the school like it was her job. She… killed herself… at the beginning of our senior year. Madison Sinclair didn't copy it, and it wasn't a coincidence. I think we have a crazy recreating the Westerberg Suicides. And if we do, then three more kids are going to die." She knew he thought she was crazy, and he did.

The Westerberg Suicides were nationally known. Four teenagers committed suicide in the small town of Sherwood, Ohio in fall 1989. However, Sawyer was the only person alive who knew that the first three weren't suicides. They were murders. Yes, it's true. Veronica Sawyer was an accomplice to murder. She watched her boyfriend kill three people; Heather Chandler, Kurt Kelly, and Ram Sweeney and helped him set them up to look like suicides, and watched him strap a bomb to his chest, just after she stopped him from blowing up their high school.

He died, of course. But sometimes, Sawyer wasn't all too sure. It had happened numerous times, like the previous night when she saw a motorbike at the 7-11 across the street. She'd see the tail of a black trench coat around a corner, hear the tell tale sounds of a motorbike every night during September and October. It was like he was watching her. But he was dead – right?

The entire experience left her a shell of whom she had been. Her crazy, abusive manipulative boyfriend making her cover his dirty work and exploding in front of her. Though after the fact she changed the way her school's social world worked. For the better. Veronica Sawyer was never the same.

"Veronica, you're full of it," he said, snapping her out of it. "But," he paused, with a look on his face that showed he knew what he was getting into it. "I do owe you one. What do you need from me?"

Sawyer smiled her most winning smiled. "I need every bit of information you can get me on Madison Sinclair and Neptune High School. Student records, teachers, Madison's class schedule, her locker combo. All of it."

"Fine. Done. You can pick it all up later," he sort of leaned across the table to her, as if he was telling a secret. "Listen, I'm not a big fan of the kid, but if you want some information on that high school, talk to Veronica Mars. She's Madison's age. A pain in the ass, but a smart kid. She solved the Lilly Kane murder. Her dad used to be sheriff. Now he's a Private Dick, apparently, she helps him out from time to time," Lamb pulled out a piece of paper and scribbled down an address. "Go here around 4:45, I'd say."

"Veronica Mars. Would she by any chance be a tiny blonde girl?" Sawyer asked, putting the slip of paper in her purse and recalling the girl at the desk.

"Yep. She was outside, wasn't she?"

"You bet your sweet ass she was. Looking for you, of course."

"Why you gotta say it like that?" he rolled his eyes, but smiled.

"Just wanted to say 'your sweet ass'." Sawyer got up and smiled. "Thanks so much, Don. I'll see you later today."

"Wait, Veronica,"

"What?"

"You look good," he said, and he looked her up and down.

Sawyer rolled her eyes. "Eat your heart out, Lamb." She walked out of his office, shutting the door behind her.

Veronica Sawyer could not believe it. Sure, Lamb was a dick, but they understood each other. She made her way back out to her car. Should she stay in Neptune for a few days? She was barely an hour away from home, but she had the extra grand from Steve tucked tightly in her wallet. What the hell. She'll grab a room at a Marriott or something. Grab some lunch from a McDonald's. Chill with a cheesy talk show for a few hours before making her way back to see Lamb and then to Mars Investigations down by the water. She was eating her lunch, and waiting to find out if John really was the father, when she realize she wasn't alone.

Blonde, angry, and dressing a red silk robe, Heather Chandler looked at her with crossed arms. "You're right, you know."

"God, what the fuck," was all Sawyer said. It had been years.

For a long time after the murders, the ghosts of Heather, Kurt and Ram had followed her around, talking to each other, talking to her. She knew they manifested out of guilt, and about a year after their deaths, started to fade out of her life. They went slowly, until nine years later, she realized she hadn't seen them in quite some time.

Heather Chandler laughed. "Missed you too, Ronnie, but your dead best friend is back, and better than ever! Well, not quite back. But to you, I am. Beside, you'll never get rid of me. Once you're in my candy store, you're never allowed to leave."

"What do you want, Heather?"

Heather got up, walked over the Sawyer's bed and plopped down right next to her. She eyed the mostly eaten burger and fries. "Big Mac and a large fry? Maybe you should lay off of that, you aren't getting any younger! I'm not getting younger, or older for that matter. Take it from me."

"Please, God, don't tell me those two idiots are with you."

"God, I hope not. The afterlife is so boring with them. I've started to miss you," she rolled her eyes merely at a fleeting thought of Kurt and Ram. "Anyways, you're right. About that girl. Someone killed her. I know it."

"Why do you say that?" Sawyer was skeptical. But, the ghost of her dead best friend who hadn't shown herself in five years was back.

"Because I'm not an idiot, like you. After the way I died, suicides make me think twice," if Heather Chandler were alive, she'd be out for blood.

"Well, I've got a good feeling. Heather, you know, I think about it every day, of course I'm going to think it was murder. Every suicide I see I always have that possibility in the back of mind," Sawyer wasn't lying. Whenever she heard of someone committing suicide, she tried to see beyond it. See if there was a new teenage Bonnie and Clyde out there.

"Can't say I'm not surprised," Heather glanced at the clock and smiled. "Guess what, Veronica, time for you to go back and see the hot Sheriff. And remember, like I said, you aren't getting any younger! And you're fincé just left you, you might want to get on finding someone new, or just get on someone new."

She ignored the last bit of what Heather said, and focused on the time. "Shit, you're right," Sawyer said, putting her shoes back on and grabbing her briefcase. And when she turned back, Heather was gone.

Sawyer nearly sped back to the Sheriff's Department, her mind a little clouded knowing that Heather was back. She pulled back into the same spot once she was there, went back inside, and walked right into Sheriff Lamb's office without stopping. Once he saw her, she held out her hand.

"Back already, Veronica Sawyer," he said, opening a drawer and pulling out an incredibly thick file.

"Couldn't get enough of you," she said, eyeing the file and reaching for it. He immediately pulled away. "Cut the shit, Lamb, I don't have all the day."

"I get credit when you bust this guy," he said, handing her the file.

"Ah, you don't think I'm crazy," she looked at the file like it was a sheet of gold.

"You're crazy, but smart. Also cute. Good luck. Now get out," he leaned back in his chair and gestured to the door. "And I don't want to see you back in here until you've found something. I mean, unless you want a date then-"

"Bye, Sheriff," she said, put the file into her briefcase, and walked back out.

Now, to visit a young Veronica Mars.


End file.
